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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159146">Trikey Oneshots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatheticPansexual/pseuds/PatheticPansexual'>PatheticPansexual</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grand Theft Auto V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ending A, Ending B, Ending C: The Third Way, Eventual Smut, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Jealousy, Multi, Night Terrors, Past Child Abuse, Probably overly OOC, Smut, Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:02:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatheticPansexual/pseuds/PatheticPansexual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I had nothing better to do so here's a collection of Trikey drabbles/oneshots.</p><p>~Requests Are Open~</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. School is bombarding me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>-Requests Are Open-</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I have the first chapter done, I'll post later, I just wanted to get this posted because I've re-written the description like 6 times and I don't wanna do it a 7th (I had to get to class).</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Jealousy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So the original work I was gonna post, I trashed because I thought it was shit, and if they're out of character here, I'm sorry, I was up till like 5am doing assignments, please bear with me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>          Ron. Fucking Ron. Michael hated Ron Jakowski. He acted like he knew everything. Everything about him, everything about Trevor, about their past, as if he knew Trevor better, more than Michael ever had or will. Michael pulled up to Trevor's "metal death shack" and grimaced at the sight of Ron on the front porch. Of course. And here he was hoping to not run into him. Michael got out of his car and locked it, heading up to the front door. Might was well try to make conversation.<br/>"Hey, it's Trevor's even weirder friend!" No response . Typical. So Michael instead rolled his eyes and entered the trailer, brushing past Ron.</p>
<p>          As Michael set his keys down he caught a glimpse of Trevor, sitting on the couch, his right ankle resting over his left knee, and scrolling through his phone.<br/> "What's the deal with your boyfriend out there?" Michael started<br/> "Who, Ron? Told you. Business partner. His wife recently left him and keeps on adding to his charges, trying to sue him now and shit. I'm just helping him out." Trevor said "Why do you care?"<br/> "I don't care." Michael simply stated<br/> "You're jealous."<br/> "What over you? I ain't jealous T."<br/> "Michael. I've known you for 25 fucking years, you get jealous, and I know when."<br/> "I'm not fucking jealous of Ron!"<br/> "Course not. Why would you be? Because he helped me out when the guy I depended on decided to play dead for 10 years? Or because he acts all buddy buddy with me, like you used to?"<br/> "I'm not jealous Trevor." No. No he was not. </p>
<p>          Whatever. Michael thought as he watched Trevor throw an arm over Ron before getting to send him off to his trailer. The three of them went out to do some work for Trevor's business. Michael wasn't required to go, but he insisted, with an "I'm bored, and trust me, Mrs. Madrazo ain't going anywhere." Michael even sat in the back of Trevor's truck to prove just how not jealous he was. Though that also meant he got to watch Ron and Trevor laugh and talk the entire time. </p>
<p>          So as Ron was reaching in nervously for what looked to be a hug, something in Michael snapped. <br/>'Fuck it. Amanda's probably leaving me anyway.' He thought and grabbed Trevor's arm, whipped him around and smashed his lips into his. He felt Trevor tense in his arms, then grow lax as his arms wrapped around his neck.</p>
<p>          When they parted he saw Ron looking indifferent, looking hard at him as he excused himself.<br/> "I was wondering when we'd see the old Mikey." Trevor said with a familiar smirk.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cuddly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I decided to make this one because there is not enough Trikey fluff (especially marriage included ones) out there. Plus Trevor would totally be a cuddler and no one can tell me otherwise.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-Requests are still open-</p>
<p>I'll write a longer chapter eventually, but damn writer's block is a bitch and a half.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When someone looked at Trevor Phillips, they think psycho, maniac, killer. Never would someone look at Trevor Phillips and think cuddly. But in truth, he always was. Whenever he and Michael had to share a bed back in the old days, he'd always be awakened by the weight of his running buddy cuddling as close as possible. Michael would usually push him off, or wake him up telling him to move back to his side of the bed, getting a sleepy annoyed grumble in return, but soon he came to appreciate the closeness. That was when he started falling for him. But of course, he could never admit that and just blamed it on the cold. </p>
<p>          When they'd reunited and were in exile from Los Santos, Trevor shared his bed with Michael, and as much as he didn't want to cling to his old friend, he found his way into Michael's arms again every night. He hated himself for it. Going weak for the man that broke him, but he couldn't help it. And when Michael went back to Los Santos, Trevor didn't sleep right, if at all, for days.</p>
<p>          These days Michael wakes up every morning to his best friend sleeping peacefully on his broad chest, Michael's hand resting on his back with his new wedding ring glistening in the morning sun, a matching one on the finger of the latter man. Michael being the light sleeping insomniac he is always wakes up before Trevor, and studies all the details of his face. He knows every single scar, scratch, and dip. And damn. If you had told Michael 25 years ago that that scrawny Canadian kid he met on that runway would be the love of his life, he would've shot you right there to save you from your own insanity, but now, he wouldn't have it any different.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Target Practice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael awoke with a start as he heard a loud pop of a gunshot. He and Trevor were currently on the run, so that got him up quick. Speaking of Trevor, he was gone! They were in the middle of nowhere, and decided to sleep out of their car since the both of them were too tired to drive. There wasn't any civilization for hours either, so they settled on parking near an old abandoned barn.</p>
<p>          As Michael crept out of the car and towards the multiple other gunshots he heard a curse in a familiar voice. Trevor. He was currently aiming Michael's pistol too firmly towards an old metal bucket.</p>
<p> "Jesus T, the hell are you doing?! Almost gave me a fucking heart attack!"</p>
<p> "Sorry Mikey. I just. Wanted to get some practice in. Couldn't sleep. I was cold too, and thought the adrenaline would warm me up."</p>
<p> "I can see that." Michael remarked as he took notice of his spare jacket hanging off his lanky friend. "Aren't you Canadian? Didn't even know you could get cold."</p>
<p> "Hey! Just because I'm Canadian doesn't mean I can't get fucking cold! We're still human you ass! Sorry I don't have all that extra muscle and body fat to keep me warm!"</p>
<p> "Jeez Trev, I was being sarcastic. Calm down." Trevor rolled his eyes at that and Michael made a quick mental note to never bring up Canada. "So why exactly did you choose the loudest possible method to 'get warm'? You could've woken me up and asked for the extra blanket in the trunk you know. We're supposed to be laying low." Trevor froze and averted his eyes, and Michael looked behind him realized Trevor had hit everything but the makeshift target.</p>
<p> "You can't shoot." It wasn't even a question</p>
<p> "So what? It's not like I asked for you to rope me into this!" </p>
<p> "Hey easy. Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. Just. You hit that dude with the flare gun spot on when we met. Just thought you had experience."</p>
<p> "Well. I don't. I mean I've killed before. But. Nothing serious. No people. But guns, no. No I've never used them. They're kind of illegal to own in Canada, and yeah, I know how to get one anyway, but I was always way too broke to actually have one."</p>
<p> "Want me to help you?" Trevor was about to protest to save some dignity, but Michael already was pulling his gun out of Trevor's hand, and what was he gonna do, refuse the man his own pistol? Michael lined up the shot in the blink of an eye and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight through the center of the bucket.</p>
<p>          Trevor tried to pretend that wasn't one of the hottest things he'd ever seen, and snatched the gun back, lining up in a shakey stance.</p>
<p> "Here." Michael said and placed his hands on Trevor's back. "Not so straight. Bend a little bit. The recoil is gonna be a bitch on your back if you don't loosen up." He then reached his arms around Trevor and held his hands with his. Trevor audibly swallowed and tried not to show how much he wanted Michael's arms around him. "Okay so, don't hold the gun too tight, makes you shakey. A shakey shot is a bad one. Now just relax bro. Breathe in when you're gonna take the shot, and let it out as you pull the trigger."</p>
<p>          Trevor did as instructed and watched as his own bullet made a hole just near the one Michael made a minute ago. He couldn't help the prideful smile and laugh that accompanied his almost perfect shot. "There you go T! See? It's not so hard! Now come on, let's go a few more with me, then let's see how you do on your own." Michael smiled with him and held Trevor against him again as he began mentoring Trevor till sunrise.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I Wish That I Could Hate You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All Michael has ever done to Trevor is lie, hurt, and betray, so why can't Trevor just hate him?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I wish that I could hate you."</p><p>The words were so nonchalant and sudden that they caught Michael's slightly buzzed mind off guard.</p><p> "Excuse me?"</p><p> Yes. Trevor Philips would give anything to hate Michael Townley, or rather, the new 'Michael De Santa'. It all started so many fucking years ago. Two, almost three decades of his life, his young life wasted. Maybe it's because he was just booted from the air force and was looking for someone, anyone to pull him out of his rut. He couldn't tell you. And then there he found him. Michael fucking Townley. </p><p>He should've known what he was getting into just from first glance. A man just fresh out of his teens, high on adrenaline and bravado. Even though Michael was about 21 when they met, he was still wearing his high school Letterman jacket, as if it would amount him to something. He had meat on him but definitely more muscle. He was handsome and slick, and knew just how to get under your skin. Who knew that'd draw Trevor to silencing his first witness?</p><p>Michael was like a drug. Stronger than any drug he'd ever taken and fuck, was Trevor an addict. He'd follow him blindly like some fucking lost puppy, though that tended to happen when you had abandonment issues. Their first score Trevor walked them into landed him 4 months in prison, and Michael was right there waiting when he got out. Trevor went back with Michael to where he grew up, the midwest. Not far off the Canadian border actually. They pulled scores, were best friends, companions. They stole, drank, lauged, cried, and hey, even eventually fucked together. To Trevor it was perfect. Nothing lasts forever.</p><p>The irony in it, is that it's Trevor's fault Michael met Amanda. They did a pretty fucking phenomenal job, and while Michael for one wanted to just hit the sack, Trevor egged him on and they ended up at some cheap strip club. Michael took a liking to one of the girls, Krystal. She had a petite figure, especially where breasts were concerned, but a stripper is a stripper. She had brown hair and piercing blue eyes, almost identical to Michael's. Her name was Amanda, and before Trevor knew it, Michael was in front of him, telling Trevor he'd be an "uncle" in 4 months.</p><p>For the first few months of Tracey's life, he couldn't look at her without wanting to cry or yell. He loved her, obviously, but she reminded him of all the broken promises, lies, and 'I love you's. He wanted to hate him. Cut him off. Leave. But fuck Michael had a hold on him. 'He played with my feelings' he thought as he watched Michael hug and kiss Amanda's forehead, who held a sleeping Tracey. 'That's supposed to be us...'</p><p>Trevor still had hope. They were just dating after all. Did his hope fall just a bit when he found out Amanda was pregnant again? Maybe. But still, they're not right for each other. They can work it out like a divorce, but without all the legal shit. Right? Wrong. Michael came to Trevor with a ring. For Amanda. An engagement ring, to be exact. And he's expected to be the best man too. Trevor cried and lunged, and after the fighting, yeah, maybe they did go at it with each other, but who's to say. Michael was gone before dawn anyway.</p><p>"T! You gotta get outta here!!" It's as if every single nightmare from the past 15 years was coming back to haunt him, except this time, he can't wake up. His best friend is lying in the snow, dying, screaming at him to go, get out, and there's nothing he can do. He watches Michael go limp in the bloody snow, not knowing that the blood wasn't even from Michael, but from Brad instead. And in that moment, God how Trevor wished a cop would just hit him right between the eyes already. Hyped on adrenaline, he sprints through the thick snow, choking on tears.</p><p>Trevor sat on his rickety trailer bed staring down at a picture of Michael. He remembers this night well. Of course Trevor being the "Hipster" as Michael liked to call him, (And could be the only one to do so and walk away living) owned a Polaroid camera. This was after a bank job. Their biggest one together. Michael was 24 in the photo and he was smiling and whooping in excitement and relief.<br/>"I can't believe you're fucking alive Michael. I. I saw your fucking grave. Every fucking year I'd go, cry till I fell asleep against your fucking tomb. Turns out you weren't even fucking in there you fuck." And for the first time, after a rage induced rampage causing him to killing a whole slew of bikers, a rival weapons trafficker, and a redneck family, Trevor processes the fact that once more he was lied to, and once more he could feel himself getting pulled back to Michael.</p><p>The snow fell softly around Trevor as he entered the Ludendorff cemetery. He'd been here so many times, and could probably find Michael's grave with his eyes closed. Except rather than the usual sorrowful, annual visit, he entered, hurt, angry, and his mind was in shambles. That night ended with his best friend staring down the barrel of his gun, and once more Trevor fleeing from his should-be-dead friend.</p><p> "Yeah Mikey. I wish I could fucking hate you. But no matter how hard I try. I fucking can't." Trevor smiled weakly and looked over at his best friend, the sunset illuminating his features "I'm destined to be stuck with your sorry ass, and you're damned if you think you're not stuck with mine." Michael smiled back, a genuine smile, one not many get to see.<br/>"I'd have it no other way, T. " And as much as Trevor wanted to believe it, he knew this was not the end of the long road of more lies and pain ahead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Please Don't Leave Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chapter based off a short comic I found on I think Twitter. It was a while ago. (Ending B spoilers)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I gotta get rid of Michael." Those words kept echoing around Trevor's mind as he floored it down the highway and redialed Michael's number for what must've the 18th time since he got that call from Franklin. He barely missed a SUV as the ringing died and he was met with Michael's voice, telling him yet again that Trevor had reached his voicemail. </p><p> "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Trevor growled out as he tossed his phone into the passenger seat and gave the road his full attention. Franklin said something about meeting Michael at the satellite field, and fuck if he was gonna lose Michael a second time. Only this time, he wouldn't be coming back a decade later.</p><p>Trevor skidded to a halt and jumped out of his truck, immediately breaking into a sprint. 'Fuck, fuck, where the fuck are they?!' Trevor thought as he ran through a field of chimneys. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a gun pop. Then another. Gun fight.</p><p> "You were like a son to me Franklin!" He heard Michael faintly yell and followed it. He looked around frantically just in time to hear a familiar yelp and watch his best friend be flipped over a railing, Franklin holding on to him, looking hesitant and guilty.</p><p> "Franklin!!" Trevor screamed, and immediately regretted it, as he made himself known, startling Franklin and watching in horror as he let Michael's arm slip from his hand. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Michael flailed around and tried reaching out for Franklin, as Franklin did the same, yelling out Michael's name. And all Trevor could do was helplessly watch and scream as Michael descended faster.</p><p>Michael hit the ground with a morbid thud as blood slowly began to pool around his limp body.</p><p> "MICHAEL!" Trevor yelled out as the tears finally broke loose and he dropped to his knees by his side. "Shit shit shit, no, FUCK!" He wailed as he began to check his friend's pulse. He heard a slow and weak tha-thump and quickly scooped Michael up in his arms and ran as fast as he could with Michael back to his truck.</p><p>He set Michael sideways in the passenger seat and leaned his back against his own seat. He didn't even bother fastening his seat belt as he immediately hit the gas and hoped they'd make it to the nearest hospital.</p><p> "F-ffuck! Fuck!" Trevor sobbed out and looked over at Michael, trying to smile reassuringly "It's gonna be fine Mikey! Just hold up! It's gonna be fine! It's gonna be alright!" </p><p>By the time they reached the ER Trevor's bodhi looked like a murder scene, and Trevor himself looked like the murderer. He made his way over to the passenger side and huffed as he pulled Michael into his arms again</p><p> "It's alright, it's alright, I got you buddy! Oh Jesus you're heavy!" He strained out and made his way through the ER entrance. "HELP! PLEASE! HE'S FUCKING DYING!" Trevor screamed at a doctor walking by. </p><p>The doctor cursed and flagged down a gurney, taking Michael away from a hesitant and possessive Trevor.</p><p> "It's okay, I'm here! Michael, you hear me? Mikey, M!"</p><p> "Please, sir, step away!" Instructed the doctor and wheeled Michael away, leaving the door to shut on a devastated Trevor.</p><p> "Please don't leave me again Mikey!"</p><p>He can't remember how many hours he's paced the waiting room floor and cried. The receptionist who was once looking at him sympathetically was now looking irritated, so he figures at least an hour.</p><p> "There you are dog." Came a soft familiar voice behind him. Trevor immediately tensed up and grit his teeth.</p><p> "What the fuck are you doing here, Judas? Here to finish the fucking job?" He spit out </p><p> "Nah man. Just. Look I wasn't gonna drop him man. I mean I was but. Well. You know."</p><p> "Are you trying to sit here and tell me you had a fucking change of heart while trying to fucking clip my best friend?"</p><p> "I swear man. I was gonna pull him up. And then you show up outta fucking nowhere, scare me shitless and I drop him." Franklin was just met with another disbelieving look "Look T, the hell was I supposed to do?! I had fucking Devin Weston on my ass! Fucking psychotic private militia owning motherfucker! The fucking feds! It was either you or him dog! I'm willing to admit I fucked up, we should've taken both of them out our fucking selves!"</p><p> "I would've you rather taken out me. He was good to you. Too fucking good. You fucking prick! You were like a fucking son in his eyes, he would've done anything to keep you safe, and this is how the fuck he gets repaid?!"</p><p> "I'm sorry dog. I am. I fucked up. Just. Please, I just want him to be alright."</p><p> They sat there in a tense silence for about three more hours, occasionally conversing, but mostly keeping to themselves.</p><p>"Michael De Santa?" A doctor's voice broke through the tension. They both stood immediately.</p><p> "Ah. Sorry. Right now he's just gotten out of long surgery and we can only allow one person."</p><p> "Go T. Go see your boy. I'm also probably the last person he wants to see." Franklin spoke up.</p><p>Before they entered Michael's room the doctor stopped Trevor.</p><p> "What happened to him exactly?" </p><p> "Oh. He fell from some industrial chimney. How bad is he?"</p><p> "Oh wow. Really?" The doctor looked stunned "Most people would die from a fall like that. He's actually in a decent condition in terms of what he's been through. He had a cracked skull, a major concussion, broken right leg, broken collar bone, and ribs, and he had some spinal cord injuries, so unfortunately he may be paralyzed from the waist down, we're still not sure yet though. He still hasn't woken up from the anesthesia. Call us within 10 minutes of him waking up please." She explained as she opened the door for Trevor and shut it after taking her leave.</p><p> Trevor pulled up a chair next to Michael's bed and held his hand. "God Mikey, you look like shit. I'm so sorry I let this happen. Please don't die. I know what I said before but I can't fucking lose you. I did once and it almost killed me. I wouldn't have anymore will to live if you weren't here, M." Trevor said wetly, tears starting to well up again.</p><p>Trevor looked over at a clock on the wall as he laced his fingers in Michael's. '10:32am. Jesus he was in surgery for a long time.' He thought and let a yawn escaped him. Trevor rested his forehead on Michael's thigh and drifted off, still holding his hand.</p><p>Michael let out a groan as he was blinded by a bright light. Was he dead? Yeah right, as if he'd go to heaven. The last thing he could remember is watching Franklin's face grow further and further away as he dropped him. He figured he was in a hospital due to the chemical scent and his numbness. He finally opened my eyes and winced at the white lights of the hospital room, trying to bring up his hand to rub his eyes, only to have it weighed down. He then took notice of the fingers intertwined with his own, fingers with the word 'fuck' etched out over the knuckles. 'Trevor' he thought as a small smile made it's way onto his face. 'Of course.'</p><p> "Trev." He tried to call, but it came out hoarse. 'They must have intubated me.' He thought. "T." He tried again and squeezed his hand as he stirred. </p><p> "Mikey?" Michael looked down at Trevor and he immediately stood up and hugged him tightly</p><p> "OW! FUCK T! CAREFUL!" Michael winced out</p><p> "Shit. Sorry. Forgot about the broken ribs. You fucking scared me M. I thought..."</p><p> "Hey. I'm here ain't I? You should know it takes a lot more to kill me." He spoke softly as he kissed the back of Trevor's hand.</p><p> "Don't ever fucking scare me like that again Michael. I fucking swear!" He choked out</p><p> "Well it's not like I planned this T." Michael huffed out</p><p> "Don't care. I'm not losing you again Townly." Trevor mumbled and rested his forehead against Michael's.</p><p> "You won't, T. I promise." He whispered out as he pressed a soft kiss to Trevor's lips.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Michael and Trevor started running together, Michael told him two things. One. If they shared, Michael liked the right side of the bed best, and two. Don't ask about his night terrors.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-WARNINGS-</p><p>Mentions of child abuse, neglect, and night terrors.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Michael and Trevor started running together, Michael told him two things. One. If they shared, Michael liked the right side of the bed best, and two. Don't ask about his night terrors.</p><p>When Michael mentioned them, Trevor didn't think it'd be as bad as it was. He pictured Michael shooting up in bed and maybe hyperventilating. How wrong he was. He awoke one night to Michael's scream and watched him try and contain himself, as to not break down in front of his running buddy. Trevor instinctively reached out and tried to comfort his friend but was coldly brushed off and watched as Michael grabbed a his pack of Redwoods and headed towards the door. By the time he came back in, Trevor was curled up with his pillow on his side of the bed, completely out.</p><p>Trevor tried his best to get Michael to open up. He knows Michael didn't want to talk about it and he gets visibly agitated whenever Trevor tries to ask about it. But damm, if something was bothering his best friend to the point of it following him to sleep, he should get it out. Or at least give in to his want to cry. Trevor would. He'd cry until he ran out of tears.</p><p>A few years later Trevor did see Michael cry. Either his scream didn't wake Trevor because he was so used to it, or Michael just woke up silently, but he was stirred from his sleep one night by hushed sobs and soft yet constant sniffling. For a moment Trevor thought he was in a dream himself. I mean Michael. Michael Townley, crying? But there to his right, turned on his side was his Michael, shaking with each silent sob. Ignoring the tiny voice in his head saying "Fake sleep." He quickly scooted closer to his best friend and spooned him. Wrapping his arms tightly around Michael's heaving chest. He expected to be pushed away, but instead Michael cried harder as Trevor held him tighter. They fell asleep like that, and they never talked about that night again.</p><p>Some nights the dreams would get so bad that Michael wouldn't sleep for days on end. So while Trevor willed his mind to go to bed and stay off of his friend, the friend in question would usually busy himself all night with unfitting, cleaning, oiling, and refitting all the pieces, scopes, and clips of any and all weapons they had on hand. Or go over heist plans countless times until he knew it like the back of his hand and there was a very small chance it'd go to shit. Trevor once asked why he tended to busy himself like this and in response Michael just told him it was calming, and gave him a more confident grounding knowing that the weapons were in top shape and the plan was flawless. To the untrained eye anyone would think Michael had OCD.</p><p> "Why can't you just tell me?! It might just help you out! Stop being so fucking stubborn! I'm not trying to be a dick, I just fucking care Michael!" Trevor screamed from across the motel room<br/> "Oh yeah, you're one to play the blame game on stubbornness! You don't see me asking you about your fucking family do you?! I know it's a sensitive topic and I fucking respect that!" Michael spat back at his friend. Trevor had once again tried pushing Michael to open up and he'd finally snapped.<br/> "Look, you know what?! Fine! I'm trying to be a good friend you asshole! Don't fucking say I didn't care enough to try!" Trevor growled out and flopped on the bed, turning his back to Michael. Michael followed suit, sitting up, resting his head in his hands, massaging his temples. After a few minutes of tense silence, Michael finally spoke up.<br/> "My dad. It's my dad. Happy?"<br/> "What?" <br/> "Fuckin- what do you mean 'what?' Your fucking pestering. My fucking dad Trev. He used to get blackout fucking drunk. Hit me. Hit my mom. Berated us like no fucking tomorrow. The only memories I have of the fucker is me cowering away from him under a fucking table to protect myself. Well that or screaming at him to get off my mom. Mom wasn't that great either though. I didn't see that though till I was older. She took care of me, and I love her, but she wasn't there emotionally. Never showing me support or love. Still to this day have never heard 'I love you'. Dad took off when I was maybe 10. I don't know where, the story has changed so many goddamn times. I've heard he's dead, in jail, joined the navy. Who fucking knows. He may have left but he still haunts me I guess." Michael confessed, keeping his eyes on the floor. He turned to look at Trevor as he felt the bed shift but was met with a tight hug from the latter.<br/> "I love you Mikey." Came a simple whisper, and that was it. Those three little words Michael was beginning to believe were forbidden for him to hear, better than any unwanted and cheap condolence or pity. Tears pricked his eyes as he finally returned the hug.<br/> "I love you too Trev." He whispered back, slightly shaky, as he held Trevor closer.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Happy Birthday Trevor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I saw, I think on Tumblr, that October 10th is Trevor's brithday. Yes I know it's late but I'm moving and have been super busy. In correlation to that this will be short and sweet because it's already late and like. Sleep. So.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a brief flash of an ID at the Canadian-American border, Michael doesn't even know how he caught it, but with that brief flash he caught Trevor's date of birth. 10/10/68. He didn't really care, per se, he could've always asked Trevor about his birthday if he wanted to get him anything. Thank God he never forgot dates.</p><p>He'd casually asked a couple times about his friend's birthday, just to make sure he wasn't getting the date wrong, but every single time Trevor would brush it off and change the subject. It had just turned October and Michael decided to screw it and stick with the 10th. If it was wrong, oh well.</p><p>Michael browsed a liquor store shelf, trying to find an expensive whisky that Trevor would like. He wanted to get him something nice, but Trevor wasn't one to like "yuppie" things. He'd already gotten a chocolate cake since that was Trevor's favorite. Michael usually never went overboard for people. Hell, this is the most he's ever gotten someone, and he probably couldn't tell you why. He shrugged and grabbed a random top shelf whisky. He may not like fancy things, but alcohol is alcohol, and he knew his Trevor.</p><p>Michael lit a 2 and a 1 candle that he stuck in the chocolate frosting of the cake as he heard Trevor ascend the creaky metal stairs. He'd set out the liquor, all set with a sad attempt of a ribbon around the neck, and an equally shitty wrapping job on long box, holding a rifle Trevor had been eyeing for months. Michael looked up as he heard the motel door creak open and watched Trevor stop in his tracks with a perplexed look.<br/> "I. Uh. Wh-huh?" Trevor stammered out<br/> "Happy birthday, T." Michael responded with a rare smile "Welcome to adulthood."<br/> "How did you... I've never told anybody though."<br/> "Eh. I saw your ID. So you gonna blow out these candles? They're melt-" Michael was cut off by a tight hug from the scrawnier man<br/> "You didn't have to. Thank you Mikey. I've never." He quickly gestured to the set-up in front of them "Y-yeah." It suddenly all clicked. Michael had known Trevor grew up in a shitty environment, and has breathtaking mommy issues, just from a few of Trevor's drunken ramblings. But shit, he'd never even had a birthday?<br/> "Of course bro. Anytime." Michael finally spoke up and brushed a stray tear from Trevor's cheek. And Michael swore to himself that he'd never let Trevor go birthday-less again.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Cooking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Based on like two different oneshots I've read</p><p>Trevor cooks for Michael</p><p>Honestly just crack</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael walked into his, well. Now his AND Trevor's house. And was immediately stopped in his tracks by the smell of burning, the house's interior itself having a slight haze too.</p><p> "Shit! T?!" Michael called out, concerned for his lover first<br/> "In here, Mikey!" Came a voice, echoing from the kitchen.<br/> 'Great.' Michael thought 'He's cooking.' As he made his way from the door down to the kitchen.<br/> "Hell are you doing?" <br/> "Cooking. Obviously. What'd you think I was doing?"<br/> "To be honest, burning down my house."<br/> "Oh shut up. My cooking is fantastic, ask Wade and Ron. I've improved since Yankton, thank you. And I think you mean I'm burning down OUR house. I pay half the bills now Sugartits."</p><p>As if that was any reassurance for Michael. He sighed and looked over his boyfriend's shoulder. Trevor was making some kind of...meat.</p><p> "That's not human, is it, T?" He asked skeptically.<br/> "No. Jesus M, I have some class. I mean damn you think you'd be fine with it. With how many times you've eaten me ou-" Trevor received a smack upside the head for that and laughed in return "Ah. Worth it. But no, it's not human flesh, you precious ass. Cletus gave me some venison that he wouldn't have been able to use before the expiration and I took it."<br/> "Do you need help or..."<br/> "No Michael. I do not. Go rest your pretty little head, alright?"<br/> "You just don't want me patrolling your cooking, huh?"<br/> "Sure, now out, asshole!"</p><p>Michael had just gotten out of the shower, a towel secured loosely around his hips when he'd heard the fire alarm go off. He immediately started jumping the gun but held himself still.<br/>'Have a little faith, M. He's fine. We're trying to work on trusting him. It's not like he's careless. Or inexperienced. Or a pyromaniac.'</p><p>Michael never ran down those stairs so fast in his life. </p><p>As he reached the bottom of the stairs he ran straight into man in question. </p><p> "Trevor. Why aren't you attending the stove?"<br/> "Kitchen's on fire."<br/> "WHAT!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE KITCHEN IS ON FIRE?!"<br/> "I MEAN IT'S ON FIRE, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO ELABORATE THAT MICHAEL?!"</p><p>About thirty minutes later, there they stood in the driveway, watching as the last of the firefighters made their exit from the De Santa household, Michael still covered in just a towel, and Trevor's shirt having missing a piece that was burned off.</p><p> "Trevor?" Michael finally spoke as calm as possible<br/> "Mm?"<br/> "You are not allowed to touch a stove. Ever. Again."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry about my ever changing writing format. This is my first AO3 fic, and I'm trying to see what works best for me, format wise. I'm also still figuring shit out.</p><p>I also apologize for the pretty short chapter after being gone a while. I've been either super busy or going through it :P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. You Are Loved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Imagine trikey taking a bath together. Trevor with his back, against Michael's chest. M slowly moving his hand, cleaning T with a sponge. Kissing his neck and shoulders. Trevor just moans and loses himself in the sensation. He feels loved and safe. Happy tears on his cheeks, while M whispers how much he loves him. I</p><p>Post from https://marina-rasteniye.tumblr.com (I got their permission to use this for a drabble)</p><p>Check out their Tumblr. They're amazing and I love them and their blog :)</p><p>Just pure, unfiltered fluff</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael De Santa entered his house with a sigh, looking for a familiar psychopath, the dusty Bodhi in the driveway giving him away. He really was starting to regret giving Trevor Amanda's old key, now with his random drop-ins, never minding the hour. He stopped as he caught a glimpse of the man in question curled tightly in on himself on the far end of Michael's couch.</p><p> "Trev?" Michael called out with a worried edge. </p><p>Trevor looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, looking absolutely wrecked. </p><p> "You good, Trevor?" He asked softly, slowly moving toward his friend<br/> "She's gone, Mikey." Trevor croaked out<br/> "Who's gone T?" Trevor only whimpered out something that sounded close to "mama".</p><p>Of course. Michael should've known the second he saw Trevor's state. Occasionally, back in North Yankton, Trevor would go and visit his mom, feeling bad for leaving her for so long. He'd come back usually a week later, completely depressed and broken. Michael fucking hated the woman. She wasn't a mother at all in his eyes. He saw her as some sick bastard who prayed on her "children's" insecurities. Of course Michael has never told Trevor this. He'd like to keep his head, thank you. However, Michael still knew exactly what to do in these situations.</p><p> "C'mere Trev." Michael spoke softly as he held out his arms to welcome Trevor into them. Trevor stood and let himself be pulled into the older man's embrace and buried his face in Michael's neck. He didn't even protest when Michael bent down to pick Trevor up bridal style as he ascended the stairs.</p><p>Michael entered his bathroom and set Trevor down gently as he leaned down to fill the tub with warm water. He turned back to Trevor and gestured for him to lift his arms up as he pulled his shirt up and over his head. Trevor got the gist and kicked his pants and underwear off as Michael began to undress. Michael's eyes scanned over Trevor's body and landed on angry red scratches on his forearms. He'd learned long ago that when Trevor broke down he'd claw at his arms. Michael approached Trevor and grabbed his arm, kissing each of all the scratches on both of Trevor's arms. </p><p>Michael pulled himself from Trevor and turned to shut off the water, stepping in and sitting up against the back, Trevor following suit and sitting in front of Michael, lying back to rest against Michael's chest. Michael grabbed a washcloth from the rim of the tub, lathering it with some of his body wash, and gently cleaning Trevor's back, shoulders, and arms.</p><p> "Can you get your legs, T?" Michael asked, handing over the rag. Trevor gave no response, just taking the cloth from the latter and cleaning what Michael couldn't reach. As Trevor got to work on his legs, Michael rinsed Trevor and began softly caressing his arms while pressing gentle kisses down Trevor's neck and shoulders. Trevor moaned quietly and let the rag fall carelessly from his hand and into the tub as he leaned his head back against his lover's shoulder.</p><p> "I love you Trev. I love you so much. You're so beautiful." Michael whispered as he kissed behind Trevor's ear and on his temple. "So gorgeous. Love you so much. M'sorry for everything. All you've had to go through."</p><p> Trevor's breath caught in his throat at the tender affection as he felt tears pool in his eyes. Never has he felt so loved and safe. He turned toward the man behind him as the said man wrapped one hand securely around Trevor's waist and the other wiped away Trevor's tears. He pressed his forehead against Michael's and let out a choked sob of happiness, turning his head to connect his lips with the other's. All he's ever wanted was Michael like this. To be treated like this. And finally. Finally. He has it.</p><p>Michael stood from the tub and helped Trevor out, wrapping a fluffy towel around him and getting a matching one for himself, drying off. After pulling the tub's plug, they made their way to Michael's room, Michael stepping into a pair of boxers and offering Trevor some, although they were loose on him, and one of Michael's t-shirts. Michael climbed onto his bed and opened his arms for Trevor to lie in. Not ten minutes later did he feel Trevor go lax in his hold and hear his breathing even out.</p><p> "Love ya Trev." Michael murmured as he pressed a kiss to Trevor's head, before drifting off, still protectively embracing him.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Haunting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Trevor Phillips had died, Michael buried him, mourned him, and tried to move on. He definitely didn't expect to wake up one morning next to his late best friend, and being the only one to see and hear him.</p><p>Ending C, but Michael had no part in it. Because that shit's depressing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Michael had missed a call from Franklin that day, he didn't really think much of it. It was almost 5pm, and he'd only called once, so Michael figured it really wasn't important and left it at that. Or at least he did, until later that night he'd felt like seeing Trevor. He was an asshole, yes, but they hadn't so much as spoken since the UD job and Trevor's outburst at Michael's house after the fact. He knew he was gonna be pissed hearing from Michael, and Michael tried playing it off like he didn't give a shit, but really, he just didn't want another 10 years going by.</p><p>Michael sat in his car, tense, as he listened to the soft rings, and ultimately met with Trevor's voicemail.</p><p> "Shit. Okay so he's ignoring me. Typical. Real mature T." Though he probably wasn't one to talk. He would've done the same.</p><p>Michael decided to drive down to the Vanilla Unicorn to see if he could find Trevor, or at least information on his whereabouts. He took the back office way in, as he usually did, but still. No Trevor. As he exited his office he ran into Juliet, leaving the stage.</p><p> "Ah. Hey. Juliet, have you see Trevor?" He hoped he got her name right.<br/> "Yeah, I heard him telling Nikki that he was going out to meet a friend." <br/> "Okay, do you know who, where, what time?"<br/> "I think it was that one dude you two being around. What's his name? Francis?"<br/> "Franklin?"<br/> "Oh! Yeah, that's the one. I think he said something about the oil fields too? Around... 5-ish? I hope that helps Mr. De Santa."<br/> "Yup. That is actually really great. Thanks." Thank God Trevor is so open about his plans. </p><p>Michael had decided to take a detoured way to Murrieta Heights and ended up passing the newly destroyed FIB building. He remembered a conversation he'd had with Dave recently too. About having to do away with Trevor... Then things started clicking. Michael had gotten Franklin involved with the FIB, Franklin had called him earlier around the time of asking Trevor to meet him in a secluded area...</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Michael had never floored it so fast in his life. He took his eyes off the road just long enough to find Trevor's contact.</p><p> "Trevor Phillips industries, leave your information and a message, and if it's a waste of my time, don't expect a call back."</p><p> Voicemail. Shit.</p><p> "Trevor, I swear if you're dead." Michael breathed out.</p><p>The second he reached the oil fields, he jumped out of his tailgater and broke into a sprint, calling Trevor again. Off in the distance he heard Trevor's ringtone and followed it like a lifeline. He froze and his heart stopped when he saw Trevor's Bodhi completely demolished, and a smaller figure lying next to it. The air reeked of burnt flesh and gasoline, as he approached his friend. Or what was left of him. Michael looked down at Trevor's seared body and dropped to his knees, choking on sobs.</p><p> </p><p>Michael buried Trevor in an area overlooking Paleto Cove and almost drank himself to death. Amanda filed for a divorce, afraid of Franklin coming around to take a shot at Michael and the rest of them, even though Franklin himself went into hiding.</p><p>'Well. I suppose karma is a bitch.' He thought as he was pulled into sleep by a drunken stupor.</p><p> </p><p>When Michael woke up the next morning he had expected to find an empty bed. Never did he ever think when he opened his eyes, he'd find familiar caramel ones staring back at him. Michael yelped and fell off the bed, smacking his head on his side table in the process.</p><p> "Oh what the fuck?" Came Trevor's voice<br/> "Tr-Trevor?!" Michael groaned out, holding the back of his head<br/> "Mikey? You. You can see me? Can- can you hear me?" <br/> "The fuck Trevor?! I fucking buried you! I saw your fuckin' corpse!"<br/> "But you can see me?!"<br/> "Yes, I can see you, shit, how are you alive?!"<br/> "I'm not alive! I'm. A ghost? I've been all over this fucking town. You're the only one who can see me."</p><p>Now that he was getting a better look at him, Trevor did look different. He had a huge burn scar on the right side of his face that looks like it went all the way down his body, judging by how it went under the neck of his shirt.</p><p>Michael sat on his bed next to Trevor, and reached out against his will to cup his cheek. He was expecting him to be cold, like death, but was met with his familiar warmth. Trevor on the other hand immediately jumped.</p><p> "Guessing you're used to people going right through you, huh?" Michael smiled and thumbed over the rigid flesh. "Did it hurt?" He whispered out<br/> "Not. Not for too long. When you burn your nerves go first, so. Only for a while. But I mean yeah, for that while, it hurt like a fucking bitch." After a moment of silence, Trevor spoke again "What about you? Did it hurt you?"<br/> "What are you talking about?"<br/> "The mourning, Michael. Did it hurt? Feeling like your fucking heart was ripped out of your chest? Like everything you had, everything you knew was fucking burning, right in front of you?"</p><p>Michael rested his head against Trevor's collar bone and gave a solemn nod "Guess in the end, we both got each other back, huh?"<br/> "Yeah Mikey." Said Trevor as he leaned in to hug Michael "I guess we did."</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Other Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What if Michael never hit it off with Amanda?</p><p>Kinda like a part one type deal? Well see how it pans out</p><p>Also sorry for the absence. I've been going through it hard.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry if this is bad. I'm fucking tired but I really wanted to get this done tonight.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her name was Krystal and she damn well may have been the most gorgeous stripper Michael had met. He laid on his charm, thick as ever, and before he knew his his lap was full of sexy, topless brunette. Or it was.</p><p>Michael was having the night of his life until just across the small, cheap club he watched his running buddy get dragged out of a side door by two tweakers.</p><p> 'Fucking Trevor.' He thought as he immediately excused himself, nearly pushing Krystal off of him.</p><p> "Where are you going?" She called after him</p><p>"Sorry baby, my buddy's a dumbass. Some other time." Before he turned and bolted out the door</p><p> Michael threw open the back door and was immediately winded by the gust of frigid air, stark against the humid heat of the strip club</p><p> "Think you can be a smartass in front of paying customers?! We almost got 1k off that drunk!" A voice spat out, followed by a punch and heaving</p><p> "C-Can't. Can't hustle a-a hustler!" </p><p> 'Trevor.' Michael thought.</p><p>Michael turned to see the two men from before putting a beat down on his best friend</p><p> "Hey!" Michael shouted and pulled his gun on the two "Fuck off!" One of the men looked like he was going to challenge Michael when his buddy grabbed his arm and pulled him back<br/> "Not worth it man. Come on." As if they were getting off just like that.</p><p> </p><p>Trevor woke up on top of something soft, surrounded by a comforting warmth, yet something cold on his head.</p><p> "Oh. Finally awake you fucking idiot? What, I can't let you out of my sights for two fucking minutes?"</p><p> "I didn't ask you to play knight in shining armor, sugar. I could have handled myself just fine."</p><p> "You were passed out in the fucking snow you prick!" Michael yelled, with no real bite behind it as he removed Trevor's make-shift ice pack frim his head "You feel okay? Need a hospital, meds, something?"</p><p> "Nah, I think I'm good, nurse."</p><p> "Ah, fuck you Trevor."</p><p> </p><p> "Lest. I feel like we've exhausted the Midwest." Michael spoke quietly into the phone receiver</p><p> "What do you mean?" Came an electronic-like response</p><p> "Well." He paused as a sleeping Trevor shifted on his chest "I just. We had all these dreams, y'know? Remember the big one? I dunno, I feel like we could do better elsewhere. Somewhere more prosperous. Maybe the west coast. San Andreas? That's where the UD is. Or hell even Liberty City back east? It's like we've always said. There's a whole world out there for the taking. So why have we been settling for here for the past decade?"</p><p> "I've been having similar thoughts. We certainly have the money to move to San Andreas too. Los Santos maybe? Talk to T about it. You know how he gets when he's left out. You sure know how to pick em'."</p><p>Michael huffed out a quiet laugh as he eyed the silver engagement ring on Trevor's finger "Yeah. Yeah I do. And I'll make sure to talk to Trev. Night Lesty."</p><p> "Talk to me about what?" Came a sleepy mumble</p><p> "Oh shit, you were awake?"</p><p> "Kinda. For that last bit. What's up Mikey?"</p><p> "How do you feel about Los Santos baby?"</p><p> "The big one?" Trevor perked up in interest.</p><p> "The big one."</p>
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